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Novel Catalog
Chapter 118
The sting of Olivia’s insults echoed in Hunter’s ears, eroding every scrap of restraint. His fists clenched, ready to strike, when Xeno lunged forward and sent him sprawling across the slick pavement.
“Ms. Lewis, allow me to escort you home,” Xeno offered, positioning his umbrella over Olivia and Hera.
Olivia smiled and linked her arm through Hera’s. “We’re partners now. Think of me as a friend.”
Hera’s pulse raced. Olivia was the formidable president of the Drake Group, granddaughter to Mr. Lee, and the wife of Capiton’s powerful Skye family. She could scarcely imagine refusing her.
They slipped into the back of Olivia’s Rolls-Royce. Hera’s jaw dropped as she admired the starlit roof. She’d never dreamed of such luxury.
Xeno asked politely, “Where do you live, Ms. Lewis?”
Olivia cut in: “Let’s head to Royal Bay—Hera will stay with me tonight!”
Hera’s eyes widened. “President Lee, thank you, but I live in Rex District, just nearby.”
Olivia laughed softly. “What are you afraid I’ll—?”
Hera stammered, “It’s just… Mr. Skye is visiting Jonford after so long. I don’t want to intrude on your time together.”
“Oh, he’s back home in Capiton and stays there,” Olivia replied, patting Hera’s hand. “Now, enough. It’s thundering—this scaredy-cat needs company!”
Hera couldn’t help but giggle at Olivia’s confession. The tension eased as they set off into the storm.
—
Outside the Zell estate, rain lashed Cillian as he faced a lone Terranova ninja. Raindrops veered sideways, driven by the rising wind, yet he stood unbowed. The ninja’s straight-edged blade, slick with fresh blood, glinted in the darkness.
“In all my years in Drakonia, I’ve never seen such power,” the assassin said, voice thick with an unfamiliar accent.
Cillian’s horsetail whisk flicked through the air. “Drakonia has many great fighters. Why would someone like you think you can challenge us?”
The ninja’s eyes narrowed. “My contract is to kill the Northern Territory’s warden. Walk away now, and I’ll pay you ten billion dollars.”
Behind them, the courtyard bore the scars of battle—over half the intruders lay dead. To the assassin, ten billion might seem small compared to the thirty billion promised for the warden’s death.
“I don’t fight for money,” Cillian replied coolly. He drew the longsword from his back and charged.
Inside the mansion, the battle raged on. Lloyd had fended off seven sixth-division grandmasters, George’s mighty kick had shattered enemy blades, and Janson’s precise strikes threw multiple attackers back. Zakariah and the remaining martial-arts masters grappled with the final assailants.
In the living room, Philix lay pale and trembling. White foam dripped from his lips as the three fragments of his soul hovered overhead, slowly returning to his body. Nash’s stern concentration softened—until thunder cracked through the ceiling.
Five jagged bolts of lightning struck Philix’s prone form. “Five Thunder Curse!” Nash cried, snatching up his copper-blade sword. With fierce determination, he began slashing at the malignant storm.